


Scumbag Gate II: How To Dump A Wild Mage In One Evening

by ddtiel



Series: Scumbag Gate II [1]
Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: Bitchiness, Charname is an ASSHOLE, M/M, shitting on Neera but also not, story spoilers for BG & BGII
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 09:04:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10510605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddtiel/pseuds/ddtiel
Summary: A short story about naiveté, evading responsibility, disappointment, willing ignorance and hope taking place in the Five Flagons Inn.





	

**Author's Note:**

> After a year and a half of this fic sitting unfinished and suddenly experiencing yet another urge to play BG2, I've decided to try to kill two birds with one stone and finish this in order to get my fill of the frustrating perfection that is Dorn Il-Khan. I don't think it's worked, because I've just purchased the BG add-on...
> 
> Anyhow, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> EDIT: A friend kindly read and pointed out many, sometimes very embarrassing, mistakes I've made, so here's the revised version, now with Drowic translated in the highlight (I don't know why I didn't do that sooner, sorry!)
> 
> EDIT 2: 231 hits now.. I thought 100 would be max! Where are you all coming from?

 

 

Despite the constant smell of dirty river water and the odours coming from merchants, whores and beggars who called the Bridge District their homes, Anqi would take it any day over the stifling depths of the vampire’s nest he and his four companions had just finished clearing out. Through this stink, the half-elf led his party towards his favourite watering hole, the Five Flagons Inn, his sore feet begging for respite. The group had spent the entire day in Athkatla’s underground, and he wanted nothing more than to dump his gear, sit down, have a drink and let the encounter with the blood-drinkers fade into memory. His plan was not unlike that of the many of the district’s residents, who were milling around the inn, chatting, drinking, or smoking their pipes. They paid little attention even to the most notorious group of sellswords in town, despite their hooded cloaks being covered in gore and smelling of death. Anqi appreciated that; he may have become infamous, but alcohol and the local opiates were sometimes enough to stay hidden.

Upon reaching the tavern’s door, the half-elf held it open for his companions, earning a groan of impatience from Dorn Il-Khan, and three increasingly appreciative gestures from Viconia DeVir, Mazzy Fentan and Neera respectively. It was a habit he'd picked up in his early days back in Candlekeep; people liked these insignificant gestures of kindness, which made you seem better than you really were, deep down. The grateful fools would let you get away with a few indiscretions here and there thanks to such courtesy. It also left the back pockets of those ahead easy targets for him. His current party had no personal possessions he wanted to get his hands on, but being the last to enter also allowed him to spot any unwanted tails; there were none this time, but a thief could never be too careful covering both the back and the front. That was why he always put Dorn on point; Anqi liked to keep the half-orc’s blood thirst satiated, but on the rare occasion, when something or someone got through him, Anqi was always ready to unleash his Celestial Fury on any such unlucky opponents. The women helped too, of course, but Viconia, in particular, liked to complain about all the strenuous work slaughtering enemies involved. It irked Anqi, but he had to keep most of his patience reserved for Neera’s shenanigans, so he’d usually clean up Dorn’s leftovers by himself to keep the drow cleric silent and happy.

Or as happy as she could possibly be, which she hardly ever was.

Right then her obsidian scowl was as deep and ever-present as always in the company of her hated _rivvin_ , who currently occupied about half of the inn. The other half—rowdy and overly friendly halflings and half-breed travellers or merchants looking to rest for the night—also offended her sensibilities, which she exhibited by twisting her mouth into an ugly grimace.

“Why must you insist on frequenting this sty after every one of our ‘adventures’, Anqi?” Viconia sighed loud enough for anyone nearby to hear, if they cared to. They didn’t. “As if spilling the entrails of the undead all day wasn’t enough, you would force me to suffer this stench as well?” A wildly gesticulating halfling knocked into her. “ _El, tanth_ ,” she spat in Drowic at the diminutive man, but he was too inebriated to notice her murderous glare. “Do not make me wait long,” she hissed glaring back at her leader, then glided between the crowded tables and up the stairs leading to the guest rooms.

“Ah, phooey! What does she know about having a good time anyway!” Neera threw her arm around Anqi’s neck in a strangling hug. “We know how to compartmentalise! So what if it smells a bit stale in here as long as the ale is great, right? Good enough to celebrate, if you ask me.”

“No one did,” Dorn said. Anqi grinned, but Neera, who aped the half-orc wordlessly, never noticed. The Blackguard ignored her and ducked down to his leader’s pointed ear and murmured, his breath warm, “Get me Bitter Black Ale. No more of that Golden Sands piss-water. I’ll be upstairs.”

“Sure thing,” Anqi said then untangled himself from Neera. She clasped her hands behind her back then looked around the crowd.

“Oh, Mazzy! Look, there’s Belle!” She grabbed the halfling warrior and dragged her over to the corner where the woman in question—another local warrior—managed to snatch a table all to herself. Anqi was free to pull off his hood and roughly comb through his floppy ginger mohawk and scratch the blood flakes off his closely cropped sides. He spotted Samuel Thunderburp, who was busy entertaining his patrons with mundane tales of his old adventuring days, then made his way over to him, squeezing between throngs of halflings. Once he reached the counter, he plastered on a smile and raised his hand in a friendly greeting.

“Ah, Anqi, my boy! Back from more exciting adventures?” Samuel waved from the other end of the counter.

“That I am. Have you got any rooms to spare?”

“Of course. Anything for my favourite half-elf,” he said, but then got distracted by someone shouting his order of ale. Anqi sighed and leaned over the counter to take a peek at his beverage selection. Sure enough, Samuel stocked plenty of the piss-water under the counter, but while he usually was happy to drink anything that had any kick to it, tonight was a different matter. He stretched his arm as far as it could reach, grabbed the lonely bottle of his favourite Evermead and uncorked it with his teeth. He took a swig; it was thick and rich and burned his tongue in the most pleasant of ways. He popped the cork back and drummed his fingers on the counter, waiting for the inn keep to remember he was still there.

“I see your tastes are as refined as your manners are irregular, my skull-tattooed raven,” said Haer’dalis, who, judging from the sour smell and rosy cheeks, seemed to have taken permanent residence at Samuel’s bar.

“I give, what I receive,” Anqi replied, his hand tracing the black ink on the left temple automatically. He caught himself in the gesture, then pretended scratch his ear.

“That you do!” The bard laughed too hard, his head thrown back, the still vivid scar on the side of his neck in plain sight. Anqi had a similar one going from his left shoulder to his collarbone, a memento from the fight with the tiefling over one of their previous companions, Aerie.

Anqi went as far as to send her back to the circus, to prove his disinterest in her and keep the bard’s jealousy at bay. Unfortunately, Haer’dalis believed the heart of the woman he loved belonged to the thief, so, in a gesture of chivalry, he challenged him to a duel. The fight itself was a short affair, ending with them shedding only a little blood. Dorn had chastised him for not finishing the tiefling and getting himself injured, but the only reason why the bard managed to land on him, was because Anqi had been distracted that day. He dreamed of murdering his companions that night and saw their bodies shatter into pieces right in front of his eyes, and he awoke covered in cold sweat. So when one of them suddenly drew his blades against him, it all felt too much like providence. Haer’dalis should be glad Anqi hated anything and everything to do with the Gods meddling in his business, because he was spared only to spite whatever fates governed his life.

Then, after they’d said their farewells, as if to further prove the powers that be were fickle and cruel beings, the wounded bard only managed to keep Aerie’s interest in him for a short while. Apparently, the winged elf had outgrown him and his love, or something of the sort, according to Mazzy recalling the gossip she’d heard from one of her many friends in town. It was no wonder, then, that the heartbroken man chose to drown himself in wine and song, but Anqi really couldn’t care less about his fate. All he wanted was some damned service.

Still, the bard insisted on fraternising. “You seem upset,” he said, cocking his head to one side; perhaps to seem interested, perhaps because he no longer could keep it straight on his shoulders.

“As well as tired and hungry. Seeing your face didn’t improve the situation either.”

“Come now! There’s no need for hostility; the bad blood between us has already been spilled. Tell me, for I’ve heard talk on the streets that you’ve been quite busy clearing the Graveyard District! Mayhap I shall compose a new piece inspired by your battles underground; from blood to blood, from dust to dust, while not a soul above heard the screams of the damned! It shall be called... ‘The Swashbuckling Death of the Depths’!”

“Did I hear something about a new song?” Neera came between them from out of nowhere, but upon smelling the bard, she inched towards Anqi, her shoulder pushing hard against his.

“I’m trying to convince our friend to share his tales of gore and glory with me, so that I may sing his praises throughout the city! There’s been talk on the street that your reputation has been less than stellar lately, undead hunting notwithstanding. Won’t you allow your dear friend to put in a few good words about you? Your daring deeds will surely stir even the most stony-faced madams of the Government District.”

“The last thing I need is some old hags getting ‘stirred’ hearing my name,” Anqi sighed, scowling.

“Ah, but of course. How noble of you to stay true to your beloved even in jest,” Haer’dalis said, and the bitterness was unmistakable. Neera, however, perked up at that, and the tip of her nose turned slightly red. Anqi wished it was due to her becoming intoxicated breathing in the bard’s breath, but knew it wasn’t true. She threw him a shy look, which he pretended not to notice; reading her was like looking at stick drawings children made in the mud—simple, mundane and boring.

“There’s little to gain from such ‘nobility’, especially since all I crave is rest and a supper,” Anqi said, his voice raised, but the innkeeper, who was currently carrying a full tray of beers to one of the noisier tables, didn’t seem to have heard him. Anqi groaned and turned back to the bard. “Maybe I should start demanding a cut from you. A quarter of your earnings for the source material, a quarter for potential defamation and a quarter for keeping Dorn’s sword away from your gut.”

“Mm, your Dark-Edge is quite difficult to hold off when he’s out for blood. My gut appreciates that you’ve found a way to keep him from lashing out, especially at night,” the bard chuckled and strummed his harp playfully. Neera threw Anqi a questioning look. He ignored it. “Oh well, then! I shall keep to the tales of the planar warriors for now, while I wait till entropy takes you both, so that I may sing of all kinds of your exploits unthreatened. Please excuse me.” He pushed himself off the counter and, after swaying for a moment, sauntered towards a particularly merry table, his harp already playing in tune to their revelry.

“What’s he on about?” Neera asked, leaning over the counter, and closer to him, something she did increasingly often.

“Just a loveless man’s envy, that’s all. Have you decided on anything in particular?” he asked, spotting Samuel finally making his way back to serve him.

“Envy?” she asked, interest sparkling in her eyes, but then the halfling arrived, huffing and puffing.

“Begging pardon for the wait, my friends,” Samuel clapped his sweaty palms together, his spirits as high as his glistening forehead. “I see you’ve helped yourself to the bottle of my finest drink, so can I get you anything else? We have freshly slaughtered piglets and a dozen or two chickens on the roast—Thalia has outdone herself on the seasoning today. I wholeheartedly recommend them, you will not be disappointed.”

“That sounds great. I’ll have five with all the trimmings and one of those piglets. As for drinks, I’ll have four bottles of Bitter Black, two bottles of Saerloonian wine, and for Neera…?” Anqi bumped his elbow into the girl’s, waking her from a daze.

“Oh! Ah, I’ll have the Golden Sands! Cheap and delicious! And can one of the chicken portions come without carrots? I really can’t stand them, never could,” she said, sticking her tongue out for emphasis. Samuel chuckled and patted her hand.

“As you wish, my dear. Shall I have it delivered to your usual merchant’s quarters?” he asked, reaching for the two keys.

“Actually, tonight we’ll be staying in your royal suites. They’re vacant as usual, I hope?”

A glint in Samuel’s eye and a wide grin was answer enough, but as usual, the halfling felt obliged to follow it up with his usual chatter. Anqi only paid attention until he heard the price, which didn’t sound exorbitant now that he’d looted quite a few dungeons and crypts, selling most of the spoils. He handed the required amount plus three coins on top to persuade the halfling to make himself scarce quicker, then grabbed the keys and headed upstairs with Neera in tow. Mazzy was still engaged in an energetic discussion with her acquaintances, but among all of his followers he trusted her the most not to cause him any trouble, so he felt no unease leaving her on her own. Among all her traits, he valued this kind of reliability the most, and when the time came to say goodbye, it would be dearly missed.

He found Viconia lounging on an ottoman in the common area, picking at the fabric of her cloak and flicking the remains of the undead legions onto the plush carpet. Dorn was standing by the window, his statuesque and still silhouette reminding Anqi of a gargoyle. Then the magnificent creature turned his piercing eyes in his direction, and he felt a spark go through him.

“Finally! I was beginning to think you’ve chosen to mix with the rabble downstairs, rather than attend to your exhausted companions’ needs,” Viconia said and, with one graceful manoeuvre, stood up, snatched one of the keys from Anqi’s hands, then strutted towards the merchant’s quarters. Then she noticed they key was more ornate, raised one of her perfectly maintained, white brows at him and said, “Well, well, aren’t we lucky to have such a generous leader. Or is this one-night luxury merely coincidental? Has it been, what? Two months already?”

Anqi cracked a smile. “You know me so well, Viconia.”

“Indeed. Though most of the time I wish I didn’t,” the drow sighed, glancing from Anqi to Dorn, who didn’t look to be interested in joining the conversation. “Either way, since I haven’t had a proper bath in weeks, I’ll accept these scraps. Do not be surprised if you see an extra bill for the most expensive soaps they have in this hole, although I’m not expecting much, to be honest. And you can send my meal directly to my bedside table; the less I see of you after a day of whining for restoration, the better.”

“As you wish,” Anqi said pleasantly and took a seat on a bench covered with furs, easing his booted feet on the corner of the small table in front, then took a swig out of his bottle. It had been a long time since he got properly drunk, and while he still had plans that would need his body to respond to his will, for now, he could take it easy and occupy himself with the food and drink. He was also looking forward to a bath later on, so the one person who set his heart ablaze, no matter how close by they were, would have to wait until later.

***

Neera took a seat next to Anqi, making sure she wasn’t too close or too far from him, just the perfect distance between friends, who maybe could become something more.

“She didn’t even ask if anyone else wanted to use the bath,” she grumbled, then peeked at her party leader. A blush crept onto her face—what Haer’dalis had said about his ‘beloved’ made her heart race.

She was trying hard not to let her vivid imagination run wild, but glimpses of possible future developments between her and the other half-elf kept popping up in her mind. She was sure she looked like a ripe tomato, so she was grateful that the half-orc, whom she otherwise despised, was keeping Anqi’s attention away from her. ‘On edge’ may have been her natural state, but her fingers and toes were twitching, and the hunger pains in her tummy transformed into a nervous flock of butterflies that made her shift in her seat constantly. Then Samuel and Thalia arrived with trays of food and jugs of wine and ale. Her and Anqi’s hands brushed when she was passing him his plate and she accidentally let her excitement slip out in the form of a tiny lightning bolt, which ended up singing one of the pouffes. She apologised profusely, trying to put out the smouldering fabric with the hem of her cloak, but the halfling couple assured her it was nothing, took the damaged piece of furniture away and wished her to relax and enjoy her meal. The scrutiny of her companions and no doubt a few epithets Dorn had in store for her soured her mood, but only until she took her first bite of the scrumptious chicken leg. The rich, savoury flavour chased away all her worries in an instant. Samuel was right; Thalia did outdo herself.

“Shish reary goof!” she said with her mouth full, then washed it down with her ale.

“Mm,” Anqi agreed. He put one of his half-eaten drumsticks into his mouth, then pulled the bone out, his teeth scraping the meat off languidly and licked the grease off his thin lips. “Makes one even more eager for dessert.”

“There’s dessert?” Neera gasped and made herself choke on her drink. Anqi patted her back a few times to help her with her coughing fit. “Sorry, that was close,” she wheezed.

“Not close enough,” Dorn muttered. He threw his chicken bone, which landed loudly on his plate, joining the rest of the bird’s skeleton. Then he picked up the meat fork and stabbed the roasted piglet straight between the shoulder blades, decapitating the animal with a few decisive slices of the large carving knife. The head landed on his plate with a heavy, wet sound. He pulled out the apple from its mouth and bit on it with a crunch, staring Neera down all the while. “Oh, how rude of me,” he seethed. “I didn’t even ask if anyone else wanted it.”

Anqi snorted into his fist, while Neera glared at her least favourite person in the whole world, except for that Red Wizard scum, Edwin. “Not anymore, they don’t,” she said, then grabbed her own set of utensils and hacked at the piglet’s leg, biting into a big chunk of the meat and squirting its juices down her chin.

“Speak for yourself. I was looking forward to that apple,” Anqi hummed, then stretched his arm over the table and plucked the half-eaten fruit from Dorn’s hand. He nestled back in the comfortable furs and started munching on his prize, happy as a lark.

“You, my friend, have some strange tastes and a much stronger stomach than I do,” Neera said, not trying to mask her disgust.

“Luckily for me, not many do.” Anqi grinned, then tossed his ginger mohawk back and let his head loll onto the backrest.

“You may be a rarity in this city, but you’d be surprised how many more like you there are in the north, where I come from. At least where it comes to this particular taste,” Dorn said and sent Anqi a dark stare. The half-elf held it for a moment, then shrugged.

“Wait, I think I’m lost here.” Neera looked from one man to the other.

“It won’t be the first time, nor the last,” Dorn told her, then stuffed the piglet’s snout between his fangs.

“Hey! Urgh, so gross!” The mage turned away and covered her mouth. Somehow she managed to keep the contents of her stomach in place and for a while, the three of them ate without exchanging many words, yet it was far from a quiet meal; the way the fanged savage chewed and swallowed made her queasy. Still, the food was delicious and the music from downstairs pleasant, so despite Dorn’s efforts to ruin it with his beast-like demeanor, Neera still enjoyed it. If only she could be alone with Anqi, she was sure they’d enjoy it much more.

He seemed to be lost in thought, but it allowed her to steal more glances. The night’s still young, she thought. She would get her chance to spend some quality time with him yet, she was sure. Moreover, Dorn seemed to be at his limit, having devoured his portion as well as half of the pig, so he’d soon be off to go out to slit some throats, or whatever he liked to do in his free time, leaving the two of them alone.

She inched closer to Anqi, pretending to be fixing the fur underneath her leg, and sent him a soft smile. When he finally noticed and returned it, subtle, but charming, she felt her belly heat up, and it was not because of the food. Soon, she thought and kept on drinking her ale.

***

Despite his fatigue, returning Neera’s smile came naturally to Anqi. While her abilities as a wild mage were quite unique, he had come across people like her before and knew the exact way to rub them to receive the results he wanted. Her obvious crush on him only made her easier to handle, if not easier to tolerate. On good days she was entertaining, but on days like this, when his mind kept wandering towards only one particular person and one particular activity he had in mind for that person, her puppy dog routine was more irritating than usual.

Then there was Dorn, sitting there in the corner of the room with his plate in his lap, his lips moist from the food and the mead, glaring at him with irritation, his patience surely waning. Anqi had been starving when they arrived, but now he may as well have been eating straw. He took another swig from his bottle; if something didn’t distract him soon, he’d end up dragging the half-orc upstairs and skipping all of his plans to get to the big finale.

Just then Mazzy arrived on the landing. She unclasped her armour and set it next to the table, then took a seat across from Neera. “I’m sorry I’m late, my friends. I’ve been chatting to some of my distant relatives downstairs, and they’re eager to introduce us to someone looking to employ us. From what they could tell me, the quest seems noble and possibly lucrative.”

Dorn huffed and rolled his eyes.

“Sounds fine, Mazzy, but for now let’s forget about work, and just enjoy ourselves. We’ve earned it,” Anqi said. He’d miss her reliability, but the overzealousness he would have no problem bidding farewell to. It made him very tired, and suddenly he wanted to wash off the nagging feeling he’d always get when dealing with goodly individuals like her.

She reminded Anqi of Gorion, his long dead adoptive father, and Imoen, his ignorant half-sister, the two people he wished the most in the world to forget, and who, by some cruel twist of fate, had been dragged back into his life by that maniac Irenicus. He would never forgive the mage for that. After Baldur’s Gate, all he wanted, was to be free of his supposed destiny, yet now, because of Irenicus, all of Gorion’s warnings and expectations for him to do the ‘right thing’ had come back to haunt him. The old man had never seen Anqi for who he was, ‘protecting’ him from the temptations of his lineage in his musty, old fortress, sculpting him in his own image to help protect the realm from the growing influence of the Sarevok the Bhaalspawn. Anqi had to kill his half-brother to survive, but he did owe him what little freedom he found after the power-hungry godling had put Gorion to death. Now, another megalomaniac was out to threaten his way of life, and Anqi would feel nothing but righteous satisfaction when he’d finally sink his Fury deep into the mage’s twisted, black heart and rid himself of the uncomfortable baggage of his old life once and for all.

Remembering his past, his mood darkened. He got up with a groan, grabbed Viconia’s plate and marched towards the stairs. Dorn sent him an inquisitive glance, but the half-elf waved him off; they would talk later. He forced himself to smile for the women and said, “I’ll see if I can lure Viconia out of the bath tub with this.”

“Good luck with that,” he heard Neera say with disdain but didn’t feel obliged to remark upon it. He had no interest in getting between the bickering women; Viconia knew her place in the world and was nary untouchable, and Neera… Her own magic had burned her before; surely she was used to getting hurt by now. She had lasted longer than he had first estimated, but it was about time to stop playing nice. All he had to do was to prepare the cauldron and light the fire; the group’s chemistry would do the dirty job for him. But for now, the only fire he cared for was the one heating up the water in the tub, so he braced himself for a verbal spar with Viconia, and knocked on the bathroom door.

***

Neera watched Anqi go with a sense of defeat and dread. The drow had been in Anqi’s party far longer than her and, despite her awful disposition, the two seemed not only to tolerate one another, but even respect, or like. She was sure it wasn’t love, but she had been wrong in that department before. Mazzy had said Viconia owed him her life, but Neera found it hard to believe someone like her would care about anything to do with honour, and even harder still that it could have grown into something more. Yet something was nagging at her. Emboldened by the ale and craving some answers, she decided to throw the topic out there and see what her companions had to say.

“Anqi may be able to handle her temper, but to get her out of a bathroom? Impossible. Believe me, I know, I've tried. It’s not like they're that close, am I right?” She looked to Mazzy, eagerly awaiting some form of confirmation, despite her general dislike of gossip, but Dorn cut in before the halfling could ease her worry.

“Just because the drow loathes you, like most of us above ground, it doesn’t mean she cannot be civil,” he said. Dorn defending Viconia? Guess even birds of evil feather stuck together. “Unlike some,” the half-orc continued, glaring at Neera pointedly. “Their relations aren’t based on friendship or some other soppy bond. As long as she wishes to stay with Anqi, she has to obey him. Just like anyone else—step out of line and your right to remain a part of the group will be forfeit. I’ll see to that.”

“Ooh, gee! How scary!” Neera held her cheeks in mock fright, then dug out a bit of meat from between her teeth and threw it on her plate with excess force. “Just who do you think you are? Who made you our warden, Dorn? You will never tell me what to do, no matter how much Anqi favours you, which in itself is a joke! One day your arrogance will go too far, and he will cut you off, just like he would an infected pinky spewing pus!” Dorn bared his fangs and a low rumble reverberated in his throat. “Oh, now you're going to growl at me, are you, you beast? Come on, then, let’s go. I've got my magic. I'm not afraid of you!” She pulled her sleeves up and her fingers crackled with wild energy. Suddenly her view of the furious half-orc was half-obscured by Mazzy stepping between them.

“Neera, you mustn’t! We are celebrating the triumph of good over evil. Anqi bought us a splendid meal, so let us not argue over petty issues and do him the honours,” Mazzy said. She put her hand on the half-elf’s shoulder; it was a gentle, yet firm touch. Neera huffed and leaned back on the bench.

“Oh, fine!”

Dorn’s scowl deepened. He grabbed his and Anqi’s plates and his last bottle of Bitter Black, and left the room.

“Yeah, go on! At least now no one will have to suffer your awful table manners!” Neera called after him, wishing nothing more but to unleash her lightning bolt straight into his retreating backside. Instead, she turned to Mazzy and said, “I really don't understand what it is, that makes Anqi keep this brute around and even go as far as to protect him from the paladins. If it wasn’t for that, I’m sure Dorn would slit his and all our throats in our sleep just for the fun of it. I really wish Anqi would get rid of him. Don’t you?”

Mazzy went back to neatly chewing on her piglet’s rump and threw her a pitying look. She also had been a part of Anqi’s team much longer than Neera, but if she knew more about him, she rarely shared her observations. She was that kind of an honourable knight. Infuriating, really, if one was looking to dig up any dirt. Betraying no signs of her composure breaking, she swallowed the meat, took a sip of her wine and simply said, “It is not my place to speak on this matter. Anqi is a grown man and he can choose anyone to be his companion.”

“Yeah, but he’s got us! We’re his companions too. Maybe we’re not as sturdy as that shambling and snarling two-door wardrobe, but we’d make do without him.”

Mazzy blinked slowly. “Well... that may be true, but it wasn’t what I was—”

Just then Viconia stomped down the stairs wearing nothing but a large towel barely covering her torso and behind. “ _H’ros noriam pholor jalukul ulu xun jalbol_ ,” she muttered and upon locating the wine jug filled her goblet to the brim. She downed it in one go, then poured another one, this time sipping it much more ladylike. “What is it?”

Neera, who'd been caught staring, coughed and bit into the piglet. “Nuffin’, jus girl tok,” she said, then swallowed the mouthful.

Viconia grimaced. “Riveted. Don’t make too much noise coming into the bedroom; I’m looking forward to a good night's rest for once and I won't tolerate anyone disturbing me for any reason whatsoever.”

“Right you are, oh tired one,” Neera mumbled. Viconia twirled, with the towel showing off more of her slim legs, than anyone present cared to see, then went upstairs. The half-elf put another bite of the meat into her mouth, paused, then stood up, letting the fork hit the plate with a loud clang. “Mazzy, I'll be right back!”

She ran up the stairs and caught up to the drow in the doorway of their shared room. She glimpsed the opulence within, which was almost enough to render her speechless. Almost.

“Viconia! Can I ask you something?”

The drow clicked her tongue. “You already are, so spit it out quickly.”

“Right, so you and Anqi go way back, I suppose?” Neera bit the inside of her cheek; when Anqi mentioned how well they knew each other, it filled her with envy she was now having trouble holding back.

“You could say that. What of it?” Viconia took a seat on her bed, looking queenly despite her state of undress. Her moist, white locks clung to her narrow shoulders and thin, long neck, and Neera wished she could trade her plain body for the drow’s exquisite one so badly. Maybe then Anqi would— “Oh, for Shar’s sake! Speak up already or get out!”

“You know this is my room too,” Neera murmured and was met with a look that could kill. “Alright, sheesh. Don't go all stereotypical dark elf on me. I have two unrelated questions. One, and believe me, it gives me no enjoyment to ask this, but I figure it’s easier to just cut to the chase: is there anything between you and Anqi? And two, since Mazzy didn’t really give me a decent reply: do you have any idea how Anqi can stand to have Dorn following him everywhere like a starved, rabid dog and if there’s anything we can do to change his mind about it?”

Neera regretted asking as soon as Viconia burst out laughing, her melodious voice harsh and cruel.

“Oh, this is delicious.” The dark elf leaned back on her hands, her voluptuous chest jiggling, as she continued chuckling. “Just how little can you see? And here I always thought mages were meant to be open minded and had a great imagination.”

“We do! Stop laughing already and tell me what is it that I'm missing here!” Neera was red in the face again and her lip and fists shaking. Just one or two fireballs would do it, she thought with spite.

“Oh, I don't think I will. It is much too amusing to see you embarrass yourself struggling to put two and two together, because, you see, the answers to those questions are very much related,” Viconia said, then put her wine away and started undoing the clasp keeping her towel together. Neera spun to avoid seeing any more.

“I should have known you can't be anything but cruel, Viconia. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“You shouldn’t have. And I don't need to prove anything to you, but I do have some insight about that man that you might find interesting.” She spoke without her usual sarcasm, for once, which made Neera face her; the drow had slipped a gown on, making herself only a dash less distracting. She flicked her hair back, then continued, “He is the kind of person who doesn't utter lies, therefore seems honest, but he operates by hiding the truth behind vagueness and mild mannerisms, thriving from people's assumed views of him. If you want to know the real Anqi, the only way is to confront him directly, catch him off guard, perhaps. But bear in mind that what you think he is may be very far from reality.”

“That sounds like a huge lie, yet seems suspiciously too honest of you. Why do you think I’ll believe you?” Neera crossed her arms. Viconia picked up her wine, took another sip, then licked her plump lips.

“You will believe it, or you will not. I do not care either way, so spare me your dilly-dallying and leave me be.” With that, the drow laid down on the bed and began tearing at the chicken with her slim fingers. Judging from her silhouette, nobody would ever accuse Viconia to be a glutton, but Neera had learned it the hard way that you did not want to stand between the drow and her meal. She’d wondered once or twice whether it could have anything to do with her being an outcast for most of her life because if so, as hard it was to admit for Neera, she could sympathise.

“I’ll be off then,” she said. Viconia only hummed, no longer interested in anything Neera had to say if she ever was to begin with. Still, not everyone had to be uncivilised in their bunch, so the half-elf said, “Enjoy your meal,” before closing the door behind her.

She stood there, thinking, then decided to compromise and listen her own intuition as well as take heed of Viconia’s advice. She followed the corridor to the bathroom door, took a breath, then knocked. No response. She knocked again. Then one more time. She frowned; there was clearly someone inside. Then a worrying thought came to her; what if Anqi’s there, passed out from the steam? There was a lot of it coming out from the gap near the floor.

Deciding that was a good enough reason to potentially barge in on him, she twisted the knob and pushed, only to have the door swing open at the same time, resulting in her landing nose-first into a solid mass. Solid, moist and furry.

She jumped back, wiping her scowling face off with her sleeves. “W-what are you doing here!?”

“Take a guess,” said Dorn, unperturbed by her touching his naked torso, nor by the fact she could see everything else, which, to her distress, there was a lot of to see. In fact, Neera was sure he was doing that to unnerve her, so she covered her eyes.

“Besides the obvious! I thought Anqi was taking a bath.”

“I was,” came from the inside. The half-elf emerged from the cloud of steam, a towel wrapped around his narrow waist. Neera blocked the left side of her vision, where Dorn was, with both hands, and tried hard not to stare at Anqi’s taut, flat stomach and slender, yet very manly chest and neck. She swallowed hard.

“Wha-what were you doing in here together?” she asked the first question that came to her preoccupied mind.

“There was four of us still waiting for a soak; I figured Dorn and I could share, so you could have your turn sooner,” Anqi said with a smile. “I guess you’re really keen, though, if you find a few tangled hairs in the drain, then you have to forgive Dorn; his hair is really thick and hard to wash properly.”

“Do you mind?” Dorn growled, breaking Neera’s happy bubble. “If the child has a problem with it, then it’s hers, not mine. She’s already tested my patience enough for one evening.”

“Well, right back at you! I haven’t done anything to you, yet for some reason, you’re being even more of a grouch than usual.”

“That’s because you’re in the way.”

“Me? You’ve been stuck to Anqi almost non-stop since we’ve come out from of the catacombs! I can’t even have a chat with him without you around! So yes, I do have a problem!”

“How about I relieve you of it, along with your head—”

“Now, Dorn. Be civil,” Anqi said pleasantly. The half-orc rolled his eyes and stomped away with not so much as a growl. “Right, so was there anything that you wanted to ask?”

Neera beamed. “Well, I thought we could have an evening on the town, just the two of us. I-I heard there’s a circus in the Promenade. I’ve always really wanted to go to one, but with the Thayans and the refuge fiasco, and now the vampires, the opportunity never came up.” She was babbling, she knew, but she was too nervous to stop. “And listen to this, there is a winged elf performing, and apparently she’s been adventuring all over before coming back to the circus. I’m sure it will be something amazing to see. So whaddya think, care to have some good ol’ fun?”

“Neera,” Anqi said in a tone that made her feel silly for asking, but at the same time grateful for bothering to ask. It was a strange combination. “I’ve already made a promise to discuss something with Dorn tonight, so I’ll have to pass. Maybe another time.”

“Ah, sure, of course,” she said and shrugged. “First come, first serve, I guess! No problem, have fun in your secret boy's club.”

“It’s nothing like that,” Anqi laughed, his eyes crinkling in the cutest way; ah, even denying her, he was so charming. “Why don’t you just get in the tub and take it easy for the evening, hm? I know I will. Make the best of what we’ve got, you know? It’s not going to last forever.”

“Oh, I guess I better, right?” She smiled, hoping her disappointment wasn’t obvious. “So you’re going to bed after you talk to Dorn?”

“The guy is all pent up, so yes, better start early, because it might take a while. Besides, if you’d seen those beds, you wouldn’t have to ask.”

They really were fantastic beds, Neera agreed, then shook herself out of a daze. She popped her head outside of the bathroom to see Anqi’s retreating form pass through his doorway.

“What a mantelpiece,” he exclaimed, then looked back and gave her thumbs up.

She returned the gesture reflexively, then watched him disappear into the room. Like a kid, she thought, smiling. How could Viconia think he’s some two-faced, cold-hearted swindler? So maybe he didn’t always tell them what was on his mind, but everyone had secrets. So maybe he let a bandit or two think he wasn’t going to kill him in cold blood after he’d given up his spoils, and then had Dorn split his guts with his great sword? That was just keeping the roads safer for future travellers. So he had a smile of an angel, yet when he wielded his katana, his Fury would always leave a bloody mess—being the son of a violent God couldn’t come without some flaws. So he was an excellent thief and had extraordinary awareness… yet he forgot to close the door?

Neera’s train of thoughts came to a sudden halt, when she realized that, indeed, the door was slightly ajar and if someone, say a curious half-elf mage wanted to turn herself invisible and slip inside to see what sort of boy talk the two were engaged in, then there was really nobody to stop her and no harm done, right?

Except that it was wrong, a voice in Neera’s head reminded her. She respected Anqi too much to spy on him. She should simply close the door for him, and let him carry on with his plans. Still, perhaps she could see another side of him, some wild and manly side he’d never show to her, because he was too well-mannered for that. That thought excited her the most, and it was enough to make her tiptoe towards the door. She could hear voices, but they were muffled, and she could see his towel lying discarded on the floor. Anqi wouldn’t have to be modest in front of another man. Neera, who was no prude girl, had been imagining him like that soon after they had their first friendly chat. Maybe she’d have to wait to be with him one-on-one in order to ask about what he thought of her, but for now, her curiosity outweighed her sense of decency, so she took a few steps back and focused her mind.

“Invisibility goes something like… _Veritas, credo, oculos_ ,” she whispered, and a surge of magic ran through her body. She lifted her hand in front of her face, then knocked herself on the head. “Silly goose, you can’t see yourself like this,” she chuckled quietly, then took a step forward the inviting door. The floorboard creaked, and she froze, listening for any sort of reaction from within the room. When nothing happened, she let out a breath she didn’t even realise she was holding, stuck her tongue out, concentrating, and moved as stealthily as she could. Once she reached the gap in the door, she tucked in her tummy and squeezed through, not wanting to nudge the door and risk it squeaking. Then, when she was inside, she had to cover her mouth to stop herself from gasping.

They have a mantelpiece and a sitting room!? she thought, envious. The girls’ room only had three beds, a table and a sofa and a fireplace, but not as ornate as the one here. This place had also a whole set of couches and poufs, a chest of drawers by the window, three pots with some exotic plants, a dresser with a fancy mirror and a genuine looking leopard rug. Neera couldn’t help herself and laid down on it in front of the fire, just because it had been a fantasy of hers from her childhood. The fur was soft and oddly moist in some places, but the heat was so soothing that for a moment she forgot where she was. Then she heard a creak of a chair or a bed coming from the room to the left, so she got up and approached the archway. She tried to peek through a multicoloured bead curtain, whose golden patterns gleamed beautifully in the firelight, but she could hardly make anything out from between the narrow gaps. She couldn’t see anyone moving around the candle-lit room, and the two beds had heavy canopies. It would be hard not to alert Anqi to her presence, getting through the curtain, but if she took it slowly, she could do it, she was sure. She pulled her sleeves up, then slid her hand between the wall and the first strand and started pulling it carefully.

Alright, this isn’t too hard, she noted with relief, then almost let go of the curtain, a terrible moan making her freeze. What the…? Then she heard another, louder one, and her restraint went through the window. She pulled the curtain open and marched around the bed, stopping only when the canopy revealed the sight inside.

Nothing in her wildest nightmares could have prepared her for what she saw.

***

_Five minutes earlier._

“What a mantelpiece!” Anqi turned to make sure Neera was still watching him and gave her thumbs up. As usual, she bought right into his cheerful persona. He was sure his plan would work out well.

He stepped out of her view, threw his waist towel away, and, not being one to resist luxury where it was right in front of him, stretched out on the skin rug. He moaned at the sensation, his joints creaking loudly.

“That’s disgusting,” Dorn said, as he came out of the bedroom, the tacky bead curtain rattling noisily. He grunted at it, then raised his eyebrow at the display in front of him.

“It’s never bothered you before,” Anqi said sleepily, rolling onto his side and snuggling into the plush fur. Then his head was yanked up, Dorn gripping his hair tightly. The half-elf smiled at his glaring companion, then opened his mouth, eagerly welcoming the crushing lips. He grabbed his own fistful of Dorn’s hair and pulled at it, but the half-orc resisted and nipped his lip roughly. “Easy,” Anqi hummed, the taste of blood filling his mouth.

“You’ve made me play house long enough,” Dorn growled, then scooped Anqi’s legs up and lifted him without as much as a huff.

“Dorn Il-Khan, so needy. I’m glad I lived long enough to see it,” Anqi said, licking the bloody nick in his lip clean. They got through the curtain to a cosy bedroom, two canopy beds standing on opposite sides, bedside tables and reading lamps next to both of them, and between them another lush fur rug. There was an ottoman by the wall, where they stashed their gear and armours, and opposite a window, which Anqi had armed with a trap before he’d gone to take his bath. He wasn’t planning on having anyone intrude on their private time, or at least anyone he wasn’t expecting.

The short trip in Dorn’s arms ended with being roughly thrown on one of the beds, then pushed down on the mattress by two hundred pounds of live, and very aroused, flesh.

“If you want to keep on living, then you’ll put your mouth to good use,” snarled the half-orc. Anqi chuckled, then did as was told, pulling Dorn’s head down and kissing him open-mouthed, his tongue dipping deep and licking greedily. His other hand was busy groping and stroking his mate’s wide back, each grove and scar his fingers caressed spurring him on further. Dorn reacted to it just as Anqi had hoped, his kisses becoming more violent, until he broke away from Anqi’s mouth, a string of red between them. Then he dove to his neck, sucking and gnawing at it. He caught both of Anqi’s wrists and pressed them against the wall, and the half-elf shivered from the sensation. Dorn must have felt it, because he sent him a heated glare, then attacked his chest.

Anqi curved his back. “You’re going to tear me apart like this,” he gasped, then let a louder sob out, when his nipple was about to be devoured. Dorn hummed at his reaction and continued, unaware of the noise coming from the archway, focused on making Anqi suffer through his mating. Already dizzy, the half-elf let his head rest on the wall, watching the beastly man with half-closed eyes, and purred, “Slow down, we’ve got all night.”

Whether Dorn heard him or not, he worked on his front for the next few minutes, lapping up the moisture from the bath and sweat noisily, until he got to his groin. Not wanting to rush it just yet, Anqi kneed his side urgently, and his companion paused to regard him. “It’s not a matter of time,” he said, irritated, finally releasing his grip. He pushed his hands under the small of Anqi’s back and brought their hips closer, making his manhood sway. “It’s a matter of drawing the line. I will only stand you playing with my needs and flirting with the rest of them for so long.”

Anqi smiled and carded his fingers through Dorn’s thick mane, massaging his scalp and nudging his ears every few strokes. He’d been surprised to discover they were one of the half-orc’s few sensitive spots the first time they touched each other and had been exploiting them ever since. He knew it angered Dorn, but even he ended up surrendering to the pleasures Anqi wished to give him.

It was unnerving that this feeling came to him so naturally; the thief almost never did anything that wouldn’t profit him, and while the touch incited Dorn’s hunger for him, he’d found himself caressing his companion outside of the bedroom when he would gain nothing but his scorn. For a man so driven by bloodlust and desire, his companion was charmingly prudish and private where it came to intimacy. Just thinking about it made Anqi want to tease him. “You know, you really don’t have to bear your fangs at anyone and everyone who tries to be friends with me, as flattering as that may be. I only do it to pass the time and to get you in the mood.”

“I watch over what’s mine,” murmured Dorn into Anqi’s chest. “And the girl… You’re too soft on her and you may one day regret it.”

“Oh, really? Do enlighten me,” Anqi purred.

Dorn sighed, then flipped them over. Anqi’s hands were back on the wall, with his chest above Dorn’s face, knees on either side of his chest and ass sticking up and being spread apart by his insistent fingers. “You and she are very alike,” he said. Anqi frowned. “Like you, she may have everyone fooled with her false innocence and infantile ramblings, but I see the same spark in you both. The same thirst for power.” Anqi gasped, and let his head fall onto Dorn’s shoulder, as the half-orc pushed a finger into him. He felt his earlobe being circled by a hot tongue, then heard Dorn whisper, “She would claim you, were I to allow her.”

“You?” Anqi chuckled breathlessly. He bit his lip; Dorn was working his magic on him, and soon he would no longer be able to focus on anything else. “So you’re telling me I have no say in this?”

“Of course you do,” Dorn replied, sounding as if he were talking to a simpleton. Anqi bit him on the collarbone, but it only made the finger go into him deeper, coaxing a whimper out of him. “Tonight I’ll make you scream it so loudly, even someone as thick as her could understand it.”

“We’ll see about that,” was the last coherent sentence Anqi uttered before his vocabulary was reduced to calling out Dorn’s name. Their mating was rough and fast paced, until the end, when Dorn held Anqi up firmly by his jaw, stilling his movements, then brought them both over with a few slow motions. When he was released, Anqi collapsed on top of the broad and damp chest, as if he were a marionette whose strings had been cut, and he let out a strained, animal-like groan.

After a few breathless moments Dorn flipped them over, hooked one of Anqi’s legs over his shoulder, then continued to rock into him slowly, wiping the come and sweat off the half-elf’s belly with a corner of the satin bed sheet.

Anqi blinked up at him slowly, then brought the hand to his lips to kiss the knuckles one by one, then murmured, “You’re amazing.”

“You say that every time,” Dorn said, cocky. He pushed one of his fingers into Anqi’s mouth, which he gladly sucked on. A moment passed, and the rocking came to a halt, and only their gradually slowing breaths remained audible. Then Dorn asked, “Do you think that mewling child would be able to give you such pleasure?”

Anqi scoffed. “Still not so great with the afterglow.”

“Answer me,” Dorn said and took his hand away.

“Of course not. Nobody could. But tell me why you’re so hung up about her.”

“I simply don’t understand why you’ve been so charitable towards her. Her magic is troublesome and her morals airheaded. She is not worth keeping around and the group would be better off without her trying to distract you all the time.”

“Maybe only you would be,” Anqi said, his voice low. “It’s so unlike you to be afraid of a little competition. I didn’t think you were this much of a cowar—!”

Dorn’s hand shot out and pressed down on Anqi’s jugular, pushing his whole head into the feather pillow. “Watch yourself, or you’ll make me say or do something we’ll both regret,” he growled.

“No,” Anqi croaked but kept his eyes calmly fixed on Dorn’s. “I want you to tell me what you want clearly. We’ve been at this for a long enough time now, and I loathe you beating around the bush. Are you so afraid that I may start valuing her over you? If you trust me that little, then maybe I should be rid of you, instead of her.”

“You—!” Dorn hissed, but then Anqi hooked his leg behind his neck and pulled him closer. He reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear, but Dorn caught his hand in a vice-like grip, his fangs bared.

“Tell me,” Anqi pressed on, unperturbed. “I will hear you out. Always. Have faith in me; I’ll not make you regret that.”

They stared at each other, jaws set, until Dorn relaxed his hold on both the neck and the hand, then shook his head and chuckled. “You always ask for the impossible.”

Anqi smiled, propped himself up on his elbow, then gathered more of the half-orc’s escaped strands and put them back in their place. He paused to graze his lover’s ear with his nails, then gently pulled at the earrings. Dorn closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, then something flared in his chest; an emotion Anqi wasn’t willing to name because it was too fragile to last between beasts like them. Dorn straightened his back, then reached out to touch Anqi’s sore neck. The half-elf raised his chin, inviting him, the hot feeling rushing through his veins.

“You haven’t failed me yet, and I know you won’t. There is too much at stake here for either of us.” And I’m not just talking about my father’s legacy, Anqi thought, but couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Instead, he laid his hand on Dorn’s wrist and squeezed it. “You alone know I’ll use any means necessary to achieve my goals, and if you follow me to the end, I’ll gladly share the spoils. All of them.”

“Your arrogance is truly something to behold. But this is what I… value in you. This is what will lead you to greatness, and I would be a fool to deny you.” Dorn’s fangs gleamed in the candlelight, shadows dancing on his rough and handsome face.

“You’re no fool.”

A moment, then: “I want you to get rid of the girl.”

The floorboards creaked softly, but Anqi held Dorn’s gaze. “Why? Give me a reason why you want her gone, and none of that group’s benefit dog shite,” Anqi ordered. He could see the harsh tone work on Dorn like a red rag to a bull; he knew the half-orc could be stubborn, but he was ready for him any day.

Dorn’s nostrils flared, and Anqi could feel his fingers tense up around his neck. Then he took a long breath, let it hiss as he let it out through his mouth and said, “If she were to leave, It would… please me.”

Anqi let his head fall onto the pillow and chuckled under his breath. “Was it so hard to say? You spout blasphemy like no one else I’ve met, but for such a tiny admission to take so much coaxing.”

Dorn flashed his fangs, then thrust his hips roughly, making Anqi cry out. “Do not mock me, thief.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, blackguard.” He tightened his thigh around the half-orc’s waist, then pulled him close. “I’d wage war against all Heavens and Hells for you, Dorn. This little thing”—Anqi tugged his companion’s neck and nestled his nose against his Adam’s apple, concealing a sideway glance—”you can consider it done.”

Dorn pressed into him, and Anqi let his voice out again, secretly smiling at the soft rattle of the swinging bead curtain, enjoying the satisfaction of letting someone down without all the mess it could involve. The list that started with Gorion was ever growing, but with time he’d learned not to let it bother him, and let troublesome people go with not as much as lifting a finger; more of them would come and go, and most of them weren’t worth the effort. He’d already found the one partner he was looking for, and Dorn was all he needed. Forever.

He arched his back and brought their mouths together, sealing his one-sided vow with a kiss. The half-orc broke his skin again, and it tasted of blood. Anqi swallowed it eagerly.

***

Neera ran out of Anqi’s room and burst into the still empty bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Tears ran down her face, bitter and hot. Her heart was pounding and her throat ached from holding in a desperate scream. She knew she should have let it out; she should have revealed herself and said… something! Anything! The bastards didn’t deserve to enjoy their… coupling; the word itself made Neera sick to her stomach, never mind remembering what she saw, then—after she moved into the farthest corner of the room and covered her eyes—heard. The way Anqi spoke to him as if they were lovers, the sounds he’d made…

She gasped wetly and then the floodgates opened. She crumbled to the floor, wheezing and coughing, wiping her eyes furiously, not wanting to let even one tear fall for the traitorous whoreson. Never again; over her dead body. She glared around the room, its lavish decor now an eyesore. What good was a brass tub, if you could wash in a river? What good was a canopy bed, if you could find a barn with some dry hay? What good were companions, if they could stab you in the back? She had been expecting Viconia to deal the greatest blow, even more so than Dorn, although she’d never realised how much he’d actually hated her, keeping most of it to himself. But for the one to crush her trust so cruelly to be Anqi? She’d never have seen it coming. And to think the drow, of all the people, was the one who warned her. Then again, maybe she’d told her all that knowing she would get her heart broken. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter anymore.

She let the last tear drop, not for the depraved scumbags, but for the memories she’d made being a part of something she’d once believed was better than the sum of its parts.

She dispelled her invisibility, then stepped out of the bathroom and went back to her room to gather her things. She put on her cloak of protection, then picked up her belt and the boomerang dagger and paused; she was no thief and she’d never wanted to become one. Yet she’d helped obtain these items, and she couldn’t help but feel a dark satisfaction in taking even the tiniest revenge on Anqi. He had let her believe he cared for her, so she would let him shove whatever issues he’d have with her taking her items up his ass. And if they ever met again, and he’d have the audacity to demand them back, she’d throw the dagger so hard between his eyes, it would never come back. She wouldn’t even waste magic on him.

Seething, Neera took a deep breath and finished her packing. Viconia was asleep, blissfully unaware of her turmoil and the role she’d played in her departure. Good for her, Neera thought, then let the door slam behind her. She bounded down the stairs to where Mazzy was still sitting, obedient and faithful like a dog, chatting to a few of her halfling friends. Neera felt bad that she—a genuinely good person—was stuck serving scum like Anqi. She didn’t want to live with the guilt of not letting her only remaining friend know of his true, lying facade, so she approached the table, now even more cluttered with glasses that belonged to her guests.

“Neera? You were taking so long, I thought you’d have gone to bathe. Are you going out somewhere?” Mazzy put down her wine cup. “Is something the matter?”

“It’s a little”—she searched for the most tactful word—”crowded up here, so maybe we could move somewhere more private?”

“But of course,” the halfling said, concern written all over her features. She excused herself and led Neera towards the darkened window, where Dorn had stood earlier. Neera sniffed at the air but could smell nothing but food and drink from the table. “There, what is it, my friend?”

“Mazzy, I know it’s sudden, but I’ve decided to… I’m leaving.”

“But why? What happened? Does Anqi know?”

Neera huffed, biting her lip hard, an unhappy grimace on her face. “Oh, he’ll know, once he’s done packing the fudge in his room.”

“Fudge—? Forgive me, but you’ve lost me. He’s invited you to his room, and then…?”

“Not invited, no. It doesn’t matter at this point.” Mazzy gave her a strange look. Neera sighed, then bent down and whispered, “What matters is that Anqi turned out to be a real backstabbing bastard. I heard him and Dorn say awful things about me. They made me feel like utter trash! I bet they’ve been secretly laughing at me all along, and I don’t deserve to be treated that way and neither do you, Mazzy. I don’t think you should stay with someone like them; I don’t want a nice person like you to get hurt.”

Mazzy frowned. “Wait just for a moment. You’re saying you sneaked into his room and eavesdropped on his private conversation?”

Neera’s mouth fell open. “Well, yes, technically? But did you hear what I just said? Any day now, I bet, that rat bastard would’ve told me to get lost, even though he knew full well how much I, you know, respected him. I thought I was a part of the team, and in truth he was just using me as… as a fireball turret! And now that he’s done cleaning the catacombs, wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. You just don’t do that to people. And to think I thought I was in love with him.”

“Neera, calm down,” said Mazzy, her voice hushed. She looked back to her friends, but they were happy chatting amongst themselves. “I know you’re upset, and what Anqi supposedly said doesn’t sound good, but you still did something extremely rude.” Neera was about to burst out again, but Mazzy put her hand on her shoulder and gave her a sympathetic smile. “As for your feelings getting hurt, well, I don’t know what I can tell you. I thought you knew he was unavailable.”

This time Neera’s brows came together. “What are you saying?”

“That Anqi was already in a relationship? With Dorn. I thought it was obvious.”

“Like Hells, it was!” Neera stepped back, her fingers trembling with wild energy. “You mean to tell me that you knew and never said a word!? That you’d, oh, I don’t know, maybe give me a hint that I was barking at the obviously wrong tree.”

“I thought you were being friendly with him, like with everyone else.”

“Hardly that. Viconia and Dorn both loathe me, and I was fine with that. I knew I couldn’t count on them to have a normal, honest conversation, but you? Mazzy, I thought you were a good person. And it’s not even about me! To think you, of all people, would sit quietly while the man you’ve been calling a friend was that beast’s… fuck toy!”

A heavy slap echoed in the room. It rendered Neera, and the gathered halflings, speechless. Exhaling hard, Mazzy withdrew her hand, just as the mage pressed hers to her cheek gingerly.

“Y-you hit me,” she whimpered.

“Forgive me, Neera, but I had no choice,” said Mazzy, her jaw set and eyes shining. “Perhaps there is some truth to your words, and I’ll speak to Anqi about this, but I will not let you disrespect him—the man who saved my life—in this or any other way. Neither you, or me, or anyone else, has the right to dictate whom he should or shouldn’t associate with, as long as he does it out of his own free will. I am truly sorry if you feel any other way.”

“Seriously?” Neera asked, laughing, despite yet more tears stinging in her eyes; there was nothing else she could do anymore. “Even someone like Dorn?”

“As long as no one is getting hurt, I stand by what I said.”

Mazzy sounded and looked like she wouldn’t budge, even if Neera was somehow able to show her all that she’d seen and heard in the past half hour. Ridiculous, that it had taken only this long for her world to collapse. She wiped her nose on her sleeve and stood up straight, putting as many inches between herself and the halfling.

“Well then, it’s good to see that I’m no one in your eyes and that you trust me so little. I hope, for as long as you remain with these people, you won’t find yourself at the short end of the stick and get out before Anqi breaks your heart as well.”

She passed by her former friend, then paused in front of the other halflings, who were watching her, eyes glazed over and ugly mugs, all of them. Since they found the show so riveting, she curtsied to them, her hand rotating in an overblown flourish, then threw her travel satchel over her shoulder and skipped downstairs. It was still very noisy in the tavern, Haer’dalis singing a song about a country wench with legs that wouldn’t close for anyone and the crowd joining him during the chorus. She shook her head at that and kept walking. She waved goodbye to Belle and Samuel, then pushed the heavy door and stepped outside.

The smell of the river assaulted her senses, but she breathed it in as if it was incense in a temple. Not that she’d know first hand since temples never agreed with her, but she imagined it would be something like it. She stretched her arms and looked around. The lady of the night, Rose, was trying to enticing the passersby at her usual spot, but the shop keeps were long gone. Deciding she wasn’t desperate enough for a whore’s company, she moved along, keeping to the lanterns and avoiding dark and narrow streets, until she found her way to the Promenade. From somewhere nearby a voice was calling all folks, young and old, to come and see the show. Neera perked up at the warm and friendly voice and headed towards the great tent. A bespeckled gnome was ushering people inside, and by his side a tall, thin man with a painted face was juggling squirrels. It looked like fun.

Neera cracked half a smile. Anqi thought she was easy to make fun of; maybe she did belong in a circus. And she bet, she would be excellent, if that’s what she chose to do, thank you very much.

The thin man tossed his animals into the air, then caught them one by one in his tall hat he then put back on and slipped inside the tent. The gnome scanned the area for any more potential patrons. His eyes found Neera and he beamed at her, waving to her in invitation. She returned his smile and dashed inside; after all, there was a winged elf inside, a creature she’d never seen before, and there was nothing, and more importantly, no one, she’d miss the show for.

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> How was it? Care to share your thoughts? I'll appreciate any and every critique and comment!
> 
> And for all of you Neera fans out there, if you somehow managed to read through this fic: I don't *hate* her. She has some fun interactions with my baby, so I hope the ending left you feeling more uplifted, instead of ready to sharpen your pitchforks.
> 
> Edit: Drew a pic as a thank you for reading here: https://ddtiel.tumblr.com/image/170280155710


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